Chapter Text
"Look! It’s the little vampire guy!”
“Is he the one who has a weird tooth?”
“Yeah. I think they call it a snaggle tooth or something.”
The 7-year-old boy tries to ignore the usual spiteful comments he often hears as if it’s part of his daily routine already. His head is instinctively fixated down on the ground to avoid the prying eyes and unbearable attention in his surroundings as he walks the familiar hallway. When he reaches the end where there are fewer people, he sits down on the ground, waiting for his parents to fetch him. Hugging his knees where he tucks his head down which makes his figure even smaller than ever, the boy silently sobs with tears he's been holding back since. The foul names may be common and habitual to him, but it doesn’t mean that they don’t leave a painful sting in his chest every time he hears them. He looks pitiful and dejected, but he can’t care less. It’s not like there are people around him who are concerned enough to notice him anyway.
That is until, a random kid gently taps his shoulders, offering a yellow handkerchief in front of him. Realizing the unexpected presence of someone, the crying boy raises his head slightly, peeking enough only to take the handkerchief and quickly wipe his tears. He remains to look at his knees, embarrassment dawning upon him as he desperately hides his face from the boy who seems to be around his age too.
"Nana! It’s time to go home!” A voice— he assumes it's from the random boy’s mother— suddenly echoes in the hallway.
“I’m coming, Mom!” The boy in front of him replies excitedly.
Meanwhile, the sniffling boy on the ground who's still recovering from his tears extends his hand to give back the yellow handkerchief to its owner. He gets confused though, as his outstretched arm remains mid-air with no response from the boy in front of him. He's about to raise his head and ask questions, but he abruptly came to a halt when he hears the boy suddenly speak.
“I actually think your snaggle tooth is super cool! It makes you different from others.”
The feet in front of him then disappears from his view, and it's only after a few seconds of processing that the boy on the ground finally looks up from his knees to catch a glimpse of the random boy's back, cheerfully skipping his way to his mom.
He remains seated as he stares at the retracting figure in the hallway— the boy who owns the yellow handkerchief, left on the hands of a snaggled tooth-boy.